07/10/2023
Colic.
That ‘oh sh*t’ moment when you look out your window and see your horse stay down that little bit too long after rolling. Then getting up, doing flehmen, pawing, and going straight down again. Crap.
My plans for the day go out the window as I watch my mare get up, trot forward about 50 meters and then roll again abruptly in a really awkward spot. Getting a leg or two under the single strand electric currently keeping them out of my hay paddock and then jumping up and breaking the fence in the process. Far out, what a mess.
I call the vet whilst trying to wrangle shoes onto my toddler, thanking all the stars that we have windows with views over most of the paddocks, so I can actually see enough of what’s going on to make some decisions before leaving the house. Because my goodness that can feel like an epic task some days.
The vet is going to be a while. It’s just me and my 2 year old.
We head outside and I manage to get all the horses into their yards without any of them realising that half the fence keeping them out of the hay paddock is missing. Poor Aliana is covered in sweat and frantic. There is nothing much more I can do with my son in tow, so we head out to repair the fence and check the hay station to see if there are any clues as to what brought the colic on.
The next thing we know Aliana is down, cast against the yard rails. S**t. Suddenly I feel the weight of being the only adult here with my 2 year old son. I desperately want to go and help Aliana, but those legs are thrashing and if anything happened to me, he would be all alone. After a few minutes she stops thrashing and lays still, so I go in to her and have a try at getting her up – looping a soft rope around her legs to try and help her roll over, but there is no budging her. I’m just not strong enough. I call the vet again with an update and then my partner – please can you come home as soon as possible!
The vet arrived moments after Aliana shattered our solid jarrah rail yards and got herself up with barely a scratch. My partner arrived a few minutes later and took over toddler duty.
The vet suspects gas colic from eating too much. The horses were given a new round bale last night and they smashed it – even through a 2cm slow feeder net, they ate much more than I would have expected, so that would explain it. Bloody horses.
EHD. That’s what my friends dubbed this kind of situation years ago. Expensive Horse Drama. It certainly felt dramatic.
We’re not out of the woods yet. Despite a drench and a hefty dose of painkillers, Aliana isn’t looking comfortable. She is yawning and backing up slowly – indicators of pain. The vet gives her more medication and is confident of a full recovery in a few hours, but suggests bringing her in to the clinic so they can keep a closer eye on her and give more medication if required. I glance over at the splinters that were once a 6 inch hardwood yard rail. Hmm. The vet is half an hour drive away. I really don’t want that to happen to my float whilst we are driving down the highway… We opt to stay home and see how we go.
With Aliana calmer and more comfortable in the yard, we give her a break for an hour or so. When I go down to check on her there is poo, whew, and she is lying down. Not rolling, but clearly uncomfortable. I recognise the classic ‘pain face’, with low ears, internal gaze, tight facial muscles, pressed lips and nostrils pulled out to the side.
I decide to get her up and try a quiet walk. She gets up with an effort and we make the first of many trips, up and down our driveway. When we get to the other end, I notice her muscles are quivering. We continue our slow plod and after a few more trips, I notice the quivering has stopped. Gradually, her enthusiasm for walking increases until suddenly she looks much more comfortable. The pain face is gone and she wants to eat the grass. It’s a great sign, but we are still under a strict ‘no food’ directive from the vet. I put her back in the yard with apologetic scratches.
We’re through the worst. An hour or so later, Aliana is still looking bright and comfortable and the vet gives us the green light for a controlled intake of food and close monitoring. I’m so relieved.
Colic is so scary. Most of us know the obvious behavioural signs of rolling and pawing, looking at the belly. But I wanted to tell this story to highlight some of the less obvious behaviour and body language that Aliana displayed that indicated pain. Being able to observe this and know what it meant, made it easier for me to understand how Aliana was feeling and to make decisions in the moment, about what to do next.
Things like:
Sudden movement
Flehmen
Yawning
Slow backing
Pain face
Muscle quivering
These are just some of the body language and behaviours documented in the Equine Discomfort Ethogram and the Equine Pain Face research. Both of these fabulous resources are freely available at the links in the comments below. I highly recommend taking the time to check them out. The Equine Discomfort Ethogram even has links to videos of all the behaviours, so it is clear what they are describing and what behaviours indicate pain. Some of them are really obscure. All of them are worth knowing.
Picture – Aliana demonstrating Pain Face, with the damaged yard rail behind her.
